


Kiss Me Till You're Drunk and I'll Show You

by miss_begonia



Category: Glee, Glee RPF
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_begonia/pseuds/miss_begonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren wakes up on Friday morning to a text from Chris on his phone that reads: <i>chapstick and gum today criss or i will cut you.</i></p>
<p>He grins and texts back: <i>BRING IT ON COLFER. I’M GOING TO ROCK YOUR WORLD.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me Till You're Drunk and I'll Show You

Darren wakes up on Friday morning to a text from Chris on his phone that reads:  _chapstick and gum today criss or i will cut you._   
  
He grins and texts back: BRING IT ON COLFER. I’M GOING TO ROCK YOUR WORLD.   
  
  
  
In the van on the way to set, Darren hums  _I wanna take you to a gay bar_  over and over again until Chris pinches him in the arm, hard.   
  
“God, you  _suck_ ,” Darren says, massaging his maligned bicep.   
  
“I have no regrets,” Chris informs him.   
  
“You’re a mean person,” Darren says.   
  
“None at all,” Chris says. “Not even half a regret. What I’m saying is that I regret nothing.”   
  
“I’ll make you regret this later,” Darren says. “Just you wait.”   
  
Chris gives Darren a narrow-eyed look that makes his stomach flip.   
  
  
  
They rehearse the fight scene first, which requires some emotional juggling. Darren never particularly likes fake fighting with Chris, because Chris is scary as Kurt: raw and furious and all out there. He knows it’s acting, but that doesn’t change the fact that when Kurt screams at Blaine, Darren feels it in his chest, hard and horrible.   
  
“Hey, hey,” Chris says after one run-through where Darren pulls back like he’s been slapped. His anger drops away like a curtain and suddenly he’s just Chris, just that guy Darren works with and hangs out with sometimes, a fellow _Harry Potter_  fan who talks in his sleep and can do crazy shit with swords and is one of Darren’s personal heroes, right after Paul McCartney and his high school drama teacher who once told him  _screw everybody who ever tells you no_ .   
  
“Jesus Christ,” Darren exhales. “This is intense.”   
  
“You know what’s going to be even more intense?” Chris says, wiggling his eyebrows. “What’s going to go down in that hotass station wagon over there.”   
  
Darren cracks up.   
  
“Okay, that was maybe not the best choice of words,” Chris says. “The whole – um—“   
  
“Who’s going to be going down where is what I want to know,” Darren says, “and how can we get that past the Fox censors?”   
  
“Very, very carefully,” Chris says. “Do you think you could fit in the space between the seats? Why am I asking that, of  _course_  you can.”   
  
“I hate you,” Darren says. “I thought we said no more jokes about me being a midget.”   
  
“I never said that,” Chris says.   
  
“I really, really hate you,” Darren says. “Like – Legacy virus retcon level of hate.”   
  
“I’m still going to get that joke about you being my ‘shorty’ in there somehow,” Chris says, unfazed.    
  
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Darren says.   
  
“Believe it, buddy,” Chris says, jabbing him in the chest. “Everyone knows Ryan likes me best.”   
  
  
  
The thing is - no matter how comfortable Darren is with Chris, no matter how much time they spend joking around or talking about super-nerdy things like the old Justice League uniforms versus the new ones, or the functionality of floo powder (seriously, they once killed a whole hour in between filming scenes discussing that), it’s still kind of bizarre to yank Chris into a car and grind all over him while they pretend they’re two lust-addled, tipsy teen gays.    
  
Acting is just strange sometimes. There’s no real way to get around it.   
  
But he and Chris are friends, and kissing friends is awesome, right? How nice to spend your working day making out with someone who smells like some sort of delicious coconut/mango combo rather than, like, rehearsing some slide dance move or – God, data entry, or picking up trash or mining coal? With all due respect to people who do those jobs, because they are important and essential to the functioning of a healthy society, but seriously. Making out, even under the close scrutiny of like twenty crew members, is better.    
  
This right here is Darren’s career, and it fucking  _rules_ .   
  
Okay. Okay. He can do this.    
  
He takes in a deep breath and exhales as Chris settles down next to him in his chair.   
  
“If you bite me again I’m going to kick you in the nuts,” Chris tells him.   
  
“Oh my God,” Darren says. “That was one take out of twelve, and I apologized at least forty-seven times.”   
  
“I’m just saying,” Chris says. “You’ve been warned.”   
  
“You’re a kissing fascist,” Darren says. “Totalitarian! You’re like the Mussolini of makeouts.”   
  
Chris laughs so hard Darren’s a little afraid he’s going to hurt himself.   
  
  
  
Chris’s lips are really soft.    
  
This is what Darren notices on take number one, when the lighting guy is still trying to figure out how to get rid of the glare and Chris accidentally turns a smidge too much to the left.   
  
“Your lips are really soft,” Darren tells Chris when they have a moment to settle while the crew re-sets the shot.   
  
Chris arches an eyebrow.   
  
“I’m just saying,” Darren says. “They are.”   
  
“Thank you?” Chris says.   
  
“You’re welcome,” Darren says.   
  
Chris’s mouth twitches up at one corner, and he looks like he’s about to say something else, but then one of the lighting guys sticks his head in the window of the car and starts talking to him about how he needs to be on top of Darren but not blocking his light, or they won’t be able to get the shot.    
  
Darren takes this opportune moment to adjust himself and think non-arousing thoughts about his middle school Algebra teacher. Oh, yeah. That helps.    
  
  
  
By take number four, Darren is starting to feel dizzy. He realizes it’s because he’s not breathing right. Every time Chris presses his hand to Darren’s cheek, Darren inhales like he’s dying. Chris makes this little sound that Darren’s pretty sure no one else can hear, which is a shame because it’s hot. There’s no other sound in the car and it’s weird, the silence except Chris and Darren  _breathing_ , shit, every time their lips touch, and the sound of fabric moving when Chris shifts on top of him and pulls at his shirt. They separate with this wet noise that sounds deafening to Darren’s ears, but he knows that’s just because it’s so quiet.   
  
“Don’t get weird,” Chris instructs him as they set up yet another camera angle.   
  
“I can’t get weird, I already am weird,” Darren says. “Lady Gaga says I was born this way!”   
  
Chris snorts and smoothes out wrinkles in his shirt. “Blaine is so handsy, jeez.”   
  
“Blaine is drunk,” Darren says, “and you haven’t exactly been the portrait of restraint.”   
  
“It’s called acting,” Chris says. “You should try it sometime, Mr. I-have-a-degree.”    
  
Darren makes a mental note to pull Chris into the car extra-hard this time, and maybe at the wrong angle so he hits his head.   
  
  
  
By take number eight Darren is flushed, which really works for the pretending-to-be-drunk thing. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point, truthfully (which also works for the being-drunk-thing, sweet!), because he keeps getting distracted by Chris’s lips and the way he’s looking at him, this goofy smile that morphs into this intense stare when they start to kiss.    
  
Chris is a little flushed too, but otherwise he’s a pro, on task and not even a tiny bit ruffled. Between takes he gabs with the makeup girls and cracks jokes while they touch them up like he always does, which is totally awesome.    
  
Chris is totally awesome and a great actor and a great friend who also happens to be a great kisser, which is...totally awesome too.   
  
  
  
On take ten Darren gets too into it and accidentally bites Chris’s lip, which makes Chris shudder.   
  
“ _What did I tell you_ ,” Chris hisses, but Darren notices he doesn’t actually try to injure his private parts. He could have done it easily, too, because Darren is currently underneath him and extremely vulnerable.   
  
“Kiss him, don’t eat him, Darren,” the director instructs, and Darren goes so red they have to give him extra powder to cover it up.   
  
On take fourteen Chris inhales when their lips touch and they breathe together, and when Chris’s hand finds Darren’s cheek, Darren presses harder, presses  _in_ , feels Chris breathe and press back. Darren curls his hand in Chris’s shirt and yanks, feeling Chris gasp and his lips part. If Darren slips him some tongue right then it is not his fault. That is how kissing is supposed to go when it’s good, and there is no denying that they are good at this.   
  
On take seventeen Darren’s pulse is still racing from the way Chris shouted at him during the fight at the end of take sixteen, and he’s so clumsy pulling Chris into the car that Chris ends up falling on top of him. Chris rolls with it and nobody’s shouting cut, so Darren cups the back of Chris’s head and guides him down so their lips meet on a shaky exhale. Chris’s tongue touches the corner of Darren’s mouth and Darren can’t help it, he shivers, shivers and grasps at Chris’s shoulders and pushes up into the kiss, hears the sound Chris makes in the back of his throat, a muffled moan that makes Darren flush.   
  
When the director shouts, “Cut,” Chris crosses his eyes at Darren and mouths “WOW” in such a way that Darren feels proud of himself, like he just won a High Achievement Award at the National Kissing Competition.    
  
“We’re good, guys,” a sound tech tells them. “The fight scene from last take was solid, we’re gonna call it a day.”   
  
Darren is exhausted but also kind of sad, because now he has no excuse to make out with Chris.   
  
“My lips are numb,” Chris complains as they extricate themselves from the car.   
  
“Poor baby,” Darren says, and Chris’s eyes heat. Darren gets butterflies.   
  
“You don’t mess around,” Chris says, tilting his head to one side. “I mean – damn, Darren.”   
  
“Isn’t that exactly what we were doing?” Darren asks, grinning. “Messing around?”   
  
He doesn’t know when he went into flirting mode with Chris – it’s kind of his default, truthfully, but he tries not to do it with Chris. They’re professionals, there should be boundaries,  _blahblahblah_ , and there’s already so much potential there for weirdness. Plus all his gay friends are always telling him he’s a tease, and, like – it’s not his fault he’s so charming.   
  
Chris blinks at him, slowly, and a smile pushes up a corner of his mouth. Darren’s stomach twists, and…um. This is possibly not good. Darren is feeling unprofessional right now. Dangerously unprofessional.   
  
“You’re saucy today,” Chris says. “I like it.”   
  
_I like kissing you_ , Darren thinks, but wisely engages one of his very few filters to keep himself from saying it out loud.   
  
“Who uses words like ‘saucy’?” Darren asks. “Are you actually an octogenarian in disguise?”   
  
“I refuse to be made fun of by someone who just said ‘octogenarian,’” Chris says with a dismissive flick of his wrist.   
  
“It’s cool, I like ‘saucy,’” Darren says, “though I would prefer if it was followed by ‘little minx.’”   
  
Chris gives Darren one of his steady, judgmental looks that used to scare Darren before he and Chris spent many hours on set entertaining each other and Darren realized that beneath that intimidating and elegant Kurt Hummel veneer, Chris is the biggest nerd to ever collect X-Men action figures. Seriously, Chris has all of the Evolution series and Darren can’t even say anything, because he covets them something fierce.   
  
“Whatever,” Darren says, breaking away from Chris’s gaze. He always loses their staring contests, and this one is doing nothing to ease the flush in his cheeks.    
  
“I want to go home and go to sleep,” Chris says, sighing, “but I have to be on a plane in four hours.”   
  
“Making out with me is super-tiring,” Darren says.   
  
“Totally,” Chris says, not even blinking as he stuffs a script into his messenger bag and hitches the strap up on his shoulder. “I’m kind of hungry. Is that weird? It’s, like, midnight.”   
  
“Making out with me also burns calories,” Darren says. “Lots and lots of calories.”   
  
“Sweet, then I can order pizza,” Chris says.   
  
“Dude, I so want pizza,” Darren says. “Can we share that pizza?”   
  
Chris stares at him. “Are you saying you spent the last fourteen hours with me and you want to hang out some more?”   
  
“Well, apparently I only have four hours until you have to get on a plane,” Darren says. “And then I won’t see you all weekend, so.”   
  
“Tragedy of all tragedies,” Chris says. “It sucks that you have no other friends. You’ll have to watch a  _Real Housewives_  marathon or something.”   
  
“Dude, obviously I’m going to re-watch  _Lord of the Rings_ ,” Darren says. “And write poetry about Orlando Bloom.”   
  
“Right,” Chris says, biting his lip to smother his laughter. “Obviously.”   
  
“Was that a yes on pizza?” Darren asks.   
  
“Yes, yes, fine,” Chris says. “I’m glad we have the chauffeur, though, because I don’t want you to tailgate me like you did last time you came over after work. That was rude.”   
  
Darren pouts. “But my car loves your car, Chris! Who are we to deny their love?”   
  
Chris, who has already turned his back, raises one long, graceful finger in response.   
  
  
  
“This is the worst idea you have ever had,” Chris says, frowning down at the slice of pizza on his plate.   
  
“You said that about the game I made up last week,” Darren says. “I think this is the best idea I’ve ever had.”   
  
“That game was a terrible idea, but this is worse,” Chris says. “There is fruit on our pizza, Darren.”   
  
“It’s Hawaiian, okay?” Darren says. “Are you making fun of my Southeast Asian heritage?”   
  
Chris narrows his eyes at Darren. “I am part Irish, but I don’t make people put potato on their pizza.”   
  
Darren stuffs a large bite into his mouth and swallows, then says, “For the record, I am also part Irish, and I think potato pizza would be delicious.”   
  
Chris mumbles something that sounds like  _freak_  and takes an extremely delicate bite. He wrinkles his nose, then concedes, “Okay, the pineapple is not awful.”   
  
“It’s the salty and the sweet,” Darren says, very knowledgeable. “Cheese and fruit are a common combination, you know, in many types of cuisine—“   
  
“All right there, Jacques Pepin,” Chris says. “The pizza doesn’t suck. It’s not like you just cured cancer.”   
  
“Wouldn’t that be awesome?” Darren says dreamily. “I mean, if pineapple pizza cured cancer?”   
  
“It would be awesome if you moved your filthy feet off my new coffee table,” Chris says.   
  
Darren shifts his feet down onto the floor, flicking his eyes over to Chris. Chris licks at his bottom lip to get at a thin string of cheese he missed, and Darren’s throat goes dry.    
  
Chris licked at Darren’s mouth that way right around the end of Take 12. It’ll never make it into Fox primetime, but it happened, and  _damn_ . Chris can kiss, holy shit.   
  
“Why are you staring at me?” Chris asks. “Do I have something on my face?”   
  
“Just your lips,” Darren blurts out, then mentally curses himself. Right, because he used up his filter earlier! He always has those in such short supply.   
  
“Are you okay?” Chris asks, arching an eyebrow.   
  
This feels like a trick question. Technically Darren is okay, but he is also a little…obsessed. With Chris’s mouth. Or their mouths, together. Making out. With Chris.    
  
None of these things are going to sound right if he says them out loud.   
  
“Um, yes?” Darren says.   
  
Chris gives him a skeptical look. “You look like you just ate bad shellfish.”   
  
“It’s the pineapple?” Darren attempts.   
  
Chris reaches across the couch and takes Darren’s plate away from him, setting it onto the coffee table. “Seriously, Darren. Are you freaked out about something? The…the scenes today? I know that was—I mean, I know you’re not—“   
  
“What? No, no way,” Darren says, because – no. “I’m not – I mean, I am freaking out a little. But not about what you think I’m freaking out about.”   
  
Chris looks alarmed. “I – you’re freaking me out now.”   
  
“I – okay,” Darren starts, then stops. “You have to tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, or if this is crossing a line or whatever.”   
  
Chris glances around like he’s looking for the closest available exits.   
  
“I really liked kissing you today,” Darren says, too quickly.   
  
Chris stares at him for a moment. “You mean Blaine liked kissing Kurt.”   
  
“No,” Darren says. “I mean  _I_  liked kissing  _you_ .”   
  
Chris blushes, which really only serves to make him look more lovely and kissable. Darren wants to kiss him again _so badly_ . The sound he made when – the way he shuddered when Darren bit him – Darren is pretty sure that was the good sort of shudder and he’d really like to see—   
  
“I don’t understand,” Chris says. “You’re straight.”   
  
“I don’t put a lot of stock in traditional heteronormative paradigms of sexuality,” Darren says. “In my experience it’s possible to be attracted to people regardless of their—“   
  
“—naughty bits?” Chris says sharply. “While I appreciate your analysis, Dr. Criss, PhD, I think you’re full of shit.”   
  
Darren pulls back, shaken. This does not seem like it’s going in the direction of makeouts at all.   
  
“Maybe you liked kissing me because I look kind of like a girl,” Chris says, his voice underlaid with a current of anger. “Or because we were – fuck, we were playing parts, Darren. We were pretending to be two characters who are really into each other, and also drunk and horny. It’s not exactly the best circumstances to re-evaluate your sexual preferences.”   
  
“I’ve made out with boys before,” Darren says, which is actually not what he meant to say at all, but there it is.   
  
Chris blinks at him. “Sober?”   
  
“I—“ Darren tugs a hand through his hair. “Okay, fair point.”   
  
“Why are you even telling me this?” Chris asks, voice rising in volume. “Do you have some kind of agenda or do you just want to…I don’t know, toy with me like—“   
  
“I want to kiss you again,” Darren says.   
  
That stops Chris in his tracks. He stares at Darren, open-mouthed, and Darren hates himself for how much he wants to lean forward and slip his tongue between his lips.   
  
“Did you like kissing me?” Darren says. “I think that is what I was trying to ask you in the least efficient or sensible way possible.”   
  
Chris closes his mouth and flicks his eyes down to the arm of the couch. He scratches one nail across the leather and doesn’t say anything.   
  
“Chris?” Darren asks. He’s really nervous now. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his friendship with Chris. He likes Chris a lot. He likes his sarcastic, biting sense of humor, the way he will listen to Darren babble on for hours about  _Batman_  or some song he’s writing, his buzzing, un-ending energy, how kind he is to everyone – Darren has a very long list of things he likes about Chris.    
  
And somewhere on that list is the way he makes Darren feel when they make out.   
  
“I hate you right now,” Chris says softly, and Darren’s stomach drops to his knees.   
  
“But—“   
  
“I have been trying so hard not to do this,” Chris says. “I mean – I’ve tried to channel everything into Kurt, because we’re allowed to be Kurt and Blaine together and Kurt had a crush, right? And then they got together and now – but you’re – you’ve been so completely off-limits, because you’re my co-worker and you’re straight and there are, like, seven hundred reasons why it doesn’t make sense for us to—“   
  
Darren leans forward, cups Chris’s chin in his palm, and kisses him.   
  
At first he’s pretty sure Chris is going to pull away. Chris tilts his head and makes a surprised sound, but Darren lets his hand slide down to the back of Chris’s neck and tugs, just enough so he can press harder, more firmly, feel the drag of Chris’s lips over his own and the whisper of Chris’s breath as he inhales, sharply.    
  
God, it feels good. Better than all the takes when they kept getting interrupted and having to shift angles or just stop, period, and start over. Darren takes back what he thought earlier about how awesome his career is: Kissing on camera fucking  _sucks_ . Kissing Chris, now that he doesn’t seem like he’s going to pull away entirely and run for the hills, is amazing.   
  
Darren licks at Chris’s lower lip, feeling Chris’s mouth open against his. Chris’s hand finds Darren’s cheek in a mirror of their earlier pose as Kurt and Blaine, and he brushes his fingers over Darren’s jaw. Darren’s eyelashes flutter as Chris takes his lower lip between his teeth and bites him, hard.   
  
The pain is enough to snap Darren out of his kissing-Chris-trance, though it also turns him on a whole lot. He pulls back slightly to look at Chris, who is pink in the cheeks and looking at Darren with a combination of confusion and fury.   
  
“So I guess that’s a yes, then,” Darren says. “You do like kissing me?”   
  
Chris groans. “Oh my God, Darren, has anyone ever told you no in your entire life?”   
  
“Um, yes, actually,” Darren says. “A lot of people have told me ‘no.’ But that didn’t feel like a no.”   
  
Chris’s phone rings right then, and Chris makes a frustrated noise. He climbs off the couch to locate it, checks the caller ID and then answers it with a short, “Yes?”   
  
Darren checks his watch. 3 am. Shit. Chris is going to have to—   
  
“I’m all packed, yeah, I’ll be ready for the cab in fifteen. Can you have them call me when – great, thank you,” Chris says, and clicks off his phone.   
  
“You have to go,” Darren says.   
  
“The New Yorker Festival awaits,” Chris says, and he sounds sad, which makes Darren feel awful. He knows Chris has been looking forward to this for ages, and now Darren has fucked everything up.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Darren says. “I – dammit. I didn’t mean—“   
  
“Your timing sucks,” Chris says.   
  
“I know, I’m—“   
  
“Your kissing doesn’t, though,” Chris says.    
  
Darren can’t help the way his pulse flutters at that. The look in Chris’s eyes is not all that different from the way he was looking at Blaine as Kurt this evening in the back of that car. He looks hungry. Chris’s cheeks are flushed and his hair is ruffled and his lips are puffy. Darren wants to drag him back onto the couch and curl up with him and kiss him some more. He wants to kiss parts of him he didn’t kiss on camera.   
  
But Chris is getting on a plane, and they made out for three hours today already. It’s possible Darren’s being greedy.   
  
“This is – this is kind of a big deal, Darren,” Chris says. “You get that, right?”   
  
Darren gets it. He does. He wants to tell Chris  _we don’t have to overthink this_ , but that’s bullshit. Anyway, asking Chris not to overthink is like asking Beyoncé not to move her hips when she dances. Ain’t gonna happen.   
  
He lifts his eyes to meet Chris’s.   
  
“To be continued?” Darren says.   
  
Chris gives him a sweet half-smile.   
  
“Yeah,” he says. “Always.”   
  
  
  
Darren decides to ride with Chris to the airport, since sleep is basically a moot point now. Chris is quiet next to him, fumbling with his phone and staring at the floor.   
  
Darren’s rubbing his finger along his sore lower lip when he has a revelation.   
  
“You like it, don’t you,” he says, and Chris gives him a pissy look that reads,  _Please not this again._   
  
“The biting,” he clarifies. “You liked when I bit you.”   
  
“Oh my God,” Chris says. “You are so—“   
  
“—right?” Darren asks. “I know I’m right.”   
  
Chris is silent for a few moments before tossing his phone onto the seat and muttering, “Fine.  _Fine_ . Yes. Yes, I liked it.”   
  
“So why did you—“   
  
“Because not everything about me needs to be public knowledge, you know?” Chris interrupts. His voice is high like it gets when he’s most nervous or upset. “Sometimes I like to keep things for myself. Don’t you get that?”   
  
Darren examines Chris’s profile in the echoed streetlights and the passing glare of other cars. He’s biting his lip and he won’t look at Darren, won’t meet his eyes.   
  
He reaches across the seat and places his hand over Chris’s. Chris starts, but doesn’t pull away.   
  
“Yeah,” Darren whispers. “I do.”   
  
  
  
The cab drops Darren off at his house. He stumbles inside, somehow manages to make it to his bed without turning any lights on, and passes out in his clothes.   
  
He wakes up at nearly noon to find he’s drooled all over his pillow and that his breath smells like something died in his mouth.   
  
_I’m such a celebrity, oh my god_ , he thinks, and goes in search of caffeine, a shower and toothpaste, not necessarily in that order.   
  
When he’s dressed and mostly conscious he finds his phone – nearly dead and under his pillow where he must have dropped it – and reads the message he got a few minutes before from Chris.   
  
_new yorker thing in like 3 hrs – is it wrong that i’m really nervous?_   
  
Darren smiles. He texts back,  _don’t be nervous, you are a god among men.  
  
lol_ , Chris texts back a moment later.  _i’m not even sure i’m a man among men.  
  
idk_ , Darren types.  _we got pretty intimate last night on set and if you’re not a man then i’m confused about a lot of stuff. your pants were tight, dude._   
  
There’s a long enough wait between texts that Darren wonders if he somehow crossed a line, but then his phone buzzes.   
  
_i just laughed so hard my stylist tried to take away my phone_ , Chris writes.  _actually he did take it away, but i got it back. he says you’re a bad influence._   
  
Darren considers this for a moment and is about to reply when his phone rings in his hand.   
  
“So I don’t even know why I’m fighting this,” Chris says, no preamble. “Sometimes I think that I was unhappy for so long that I just figured that was what my default state was – that it’s the way things are supposed to be. But things aren’t like that anymore, and maybe I need to stop being so suspicious of every good thing that happens to me, like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be gone.”   
  
Darren waits until this rush of words ends before clearing his throat and saying, “Um, hi, Chris. How’s the Big Apple?”   
  
“Oh, fuck you,” Chris says, but his affectionate tone belies his words. “New York is fabulous. It’s always fabulous.”   
  
“Things should be good for you, you know,” Darren says. “Really good. The best.”   
  
He means it. He imagines the way Chris looks – his face softening, relaxed. Chris is always beautiful, but he’s especially beautiful when he’s comfortable or laughing.   
  
“I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about this right now,” Chris says, “because I haven’t had a lot of sleep or time to think or – I’m kind of delirious, basically. But there’s a good chance that when I get back I’m not going to be able to say this to your face. So –“   
  
“I really, really like you,” Darren blurts out. “I want you to know that. And I’ll like you no matter what, whether we do…whatever it is we might be doing, or not. Because you’re awesome. I just wanted to state that. For the record.”   
  
There’s a cough on the other end then a long pause.    
  
Finally, Chris says, “I was going to say, I think we should do this. Whatever it is. Because I can come up with a lot of reasons why it’s an awful idea, and unprofessional, and how it could end badly, but none of them are equal to—“   
  
“—how fantastic it is to make out with me?” Darren finishes for him.   
  
He can hear Chris’s intake of breath. “I – you are so ridiculous.”   
  
“Ridiculously  _awesome_ .”   
  
Chris snorts. “I was going to say that none of the bad reasons are equal to the potential for good. But now I’m starting to think—“   
  
“No, no, don’t think!” Darren exclaims, cradling the phone closer to his ear. “You’re absolutely right, so much potential for good. Exactly that. You’re a genius. You’re going to rock this  _New Yorker_  panel. They’re gonna love you. They already love you. But they’re gonna love you more.”   
  
“You’re kind of insane,” Chris says.   
  
“I know,” Darren says, then lowers his voice in pitch to say, “Crazy for you, baby.”   
  
“Oh, God. So many regrets already, Darren.”   
  
"But - you have no regrets, remember? Not even half of one, you said—“   
  
Chris's laughter is light and almost musical. "And then you said you would make me regret it later. How prescient you were..."   
  
"No but seriously," Darren says. "I won't make you regret this. I promise."   
  
There's a moment of quiet on the line, then an exhalation of breath, a quick pulse of static.    
  
"You know what I regret right now?" Chris says. "Doing this over the phone. Because I really want to kiss you."   
  
Darren feels giddy, like he wants to vibrate out of his skin. His fingers tap out a rhythm on his nightstand, the beat of possibility.   
  
"I want that too," Darren says. "I want to - more than kiss you, to be honest."   
  
He may be imagining it, but he thinks he hears Chris's breath hitch.   
  
"Goddammit, Darren," Chris says. "I have to go do this panel."   
  
"Can you do me a favor?" Darren asks.   
  
“What?” Chris asks.    
  
He sounds a bit breathless. Darren thinks,  _so much potential for good, so much._   
  
“If anybody asks, tonight, at the panel?” Darren says. “Tell them I’m a good kisser.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Kiss Me Till You're Drunk and I'll Show You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/591465) by [oohshinyfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oohshinyfangirl/pseuds/oohshinyfangirl)




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